


I'm the Boss

by purplelaterade



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplelaterade/pseuds/purplelaterade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Undress me.” “What?” In which Clara is definitely the boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm the Boss

**Author's Note:**

> Mild spoilers for The Crimson Horror. Because that slip of the tongue was too good to resist.

“So I’m the boss, am I?” Clara can’t help but smirk as she watches the Doctor flush and fidget and look everywhere that’s not at her. “God, you’re almost as red as the ‘Crimson Horror,’” she teases, rounding the console to him, careful not to catch her dress on any of the knobs or levers. “You’re so easy.”

“I am _not_ easy!” he protests, fixing his bowtie indignantly.

“Undress me.”

She laughs as he splutters. “ _What_?” he finally forces out, eyes wide.

“You think I’m gonna get out of this thing on my own? Yeah right. Have you _seen_ how tight it is?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow at him, and his eyes flick downward before immediately looking up to intently study some spot on the time rotor. “I needed help getting _into_ it too, for that matter.”

The Doctor coughs. “Yes, I… remember.”

“I bet you do.”

“ _Clara_!”

“What, are you afraid your ship’s gonna know about what we got up to in the wardrobe? I’m sure she’s well-aware, you _were_ a bit noisy-” She breaks off as his eyes get even wider and he makes a nixing motion across his neck. “Oh, come off it, can’t be the first time you’ve gotten up to things in here. I know it’s not, as a matter of fact,” she adds with a wink.

“If it’s all the same to you,” he begins hotly, “I just would rather not discuss things of that nature in the console room, it’s _rude_ -”

“‘That nature’ being the way you got me against the wall in the wardrobe and-?”

“ _Clara_!”

“I’ll stop if you undress me.” The Doctor hesitates, raking a hand through his hair. Clara rolls her eyes, stepping closer to him to allow him easier access. “Come on, it’s not easy to breathe in this thing.”

He finally relents, fingers brushing against her neck as he starts on the buttons. “This is _my_ ship,” he grumbles.

“You said I was the boss,” she reminds him.

“Slip of the tongue.”

“That’s not the only place you’ve slipped your tongue-”

“Clara Oswald!”

She laughs. “For a thousand-year-old alien, you’re sure easily scandalized, aren’t you? No wonder you were so keen to go to Victorian times.”

There’s no response from the Doctor; she can’t tell if he’s ignoring her or just focusing on trying to get her out of her dress. He undoes button after button and lace after lace until finally she’s standing amidst a sea of fabric in only cotton underthings. Victorian underthings, so not exactly revealing, but considering the blush on the Doctor’s face they were certainly _something_.

“Much better.” Clara sighs and stretches, relishing the feeling of being able to take deep breaths again. “You know,” she says, moving so that she’s got the Doctor backed into the console, pinning him there, sliding a hand up his thigh, “I wasn’t joking when I said I’d had enough of Victorian values for a bit. After all, in here we don’t have to pretend to be married. Not that I’m complaining, mind. Just a bit easier this way.” She leans in to kiss him, long and slow, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and onto the console. His hands move to her waist, drawing her in. Her teeth just graze his bottom lip when she pulls back and he chases her lips but she puts a hand to his chest to keep him in place. “You know what I want?”

“What?” he asks, swallowing thickly.

She leans in again and the Doctor’s eyes close in anticipation. Millimeters from his lips, she stops, clapping him on the shoulder with one hand instead. “To go home!” she says cheerily, spinning out of his grasp as he gapes after her. “It’s been a while. Well, for me, not for them, but all the same. Could use a break for a day or two.” Skipping over to one of the staircases, she turns to look at him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Set the coordinates.”

He shakes his head, rounding the console in a daze as she hops up the steps. “Oi, where’re you going?” he calls after her.

“Wardrobe, where d’ya think? Can’t very well show up to modern-day London in Victorian skivvies, can I?” She starts off down the hall, turning suddenly to dash back and lean over the railing. “Oh, and Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe set it for the scenic route back.” He looks up at her, confused, and she winks. “Meet me in the wardrobe when you’re done.”

His laughter follows her down the hall. “You’re the boss.”


End file.
